


Starved For Your Affection

by Skullszeyes



Series: Eating The Dead [6]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Blood, Blood and Injury, Child Neglect, Comfort, Crying, Depression, During Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Crush, Forehead Kisses, Future, Implied Pseudo-Incest, Loneliness, Love, Mutually Unrequited, Pain, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Canon, Self-Harm, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 12:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18094682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullszeyes/pseuds/Skullszeyes
Summary: Five makes himself a sandwich but finds Vanya's door to her room is open, and when he finds her, he knows life is unfair for them both.





	Starved For Your Affection

**Author's Note:**

> I thought about this the moment I saw Vanya checking out Five's wounded wrist. The look in his eyes, it was soft, as if he was able to see her without his siblings around, but he wasn't there for himself or her. I guess I like this ship, and I'm not sure how far I want to go past a certain line. It depends in the future, I guess. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciative.

Five flicked the light on in the kitchen and breathed calmly as he pulled open the fridge door. It was colder at night, silent and still, the wood and brick of the house pulled taut and was ready to crumble at the slightest push. It reminds him of how empty it is in the house, even when some of the rooms are occupied with his _family._ A breath of old aches, stigma in the creases of the plaster and paint. All of it seamed together by a man with no heart beating inside his ancient rib cage.

He placed two white pieces of bread down on the table, spread them with peanut butter, and scattered small plush marshmallows down before smushing it together with the other piece of bread. He drank a glass of orange juice and left the kitchen, walking down the hallway, biting into the sandwich.

Five was about to enter his bedroom and finish his sandwich behind his closed door when he heard the slightest noise. It came from down the cold narrow hallway, tilting his head to the side and wondered if Ben was crying again, or Klaus was having a nightmare. But he noticed one thing, Vanya’s bedroom door was left open.

She’s awake?

He took another bite as he strode down the hallway, his heart settling into a steady beat, but with each step he took, it started to race. None of them were meant to be alone for long, their father was strict about the ways they played together, and now that they were growing older, he was getting more unbearable with each passing year.

Five knew he had to keep his distance, but sometimes he didn’t want too. It was a sort of rebellion against the old man with his usual dead scowl, eyes set on papers as his pencil made a dragging noise in the silence of his office. The same one none of them were allowed to enter, and maybe that’s one of the reasons he created Grace, their mother, who could easily keep them occupied.

He isn’t sure if he wants to ever tell anyone what he thinks during the night when he can’t sleep. About the thoughts he has once he’s older and he can make his own decisions, that he can take Vanya away from this place with its hollow halls and rooms, and its master who holds little emotion for them. He sometimes thinks he can show Vanya more than what they already know, that they can go out and search for something special beyond what he has been told, and what she hasn’t.

He can take her hand, hold her close, whisper his promises to her, and those are the little things he wants to explore once he’s older, once they outgrow the old man’s fantasies.

They can finally start living.

But that might not be a reality, beyond a glass wall of possibilities as his pace slows and he finishes his sandwich, swallowing it once he hears the slight sounds of crying and the hard gasp of breath coming from the bathroom. This one is away from the others in its solitude, and he figured he could talk to her once she comes out, but this was different, this shattered all those little thoughts he had as he comes to a stand still.

“It hurts,” she whispers, gasping, “I can’t breathe. I don’t want to stay here, I want to leave, but he’ll find me.”

Five turns his head to the side, his brows knitted together. He heard about her attempt to runaway, and father had punished her severely. She disappeared for several weeks and returned, empty of thought and words. He knew whatever their father had done to her, it scared him and everyone else.

“I need it to stop hurting,” she whispers, sucking in a breath, “I need it to stop.” And he heard the slightest sound of something metallic falling to the floor.

He knows if he doesn’t say something, he’ll regret it, and she’ll wear the same old emptiness in her eyes. He has to face reality. Five takes a deep breath before coming into view of the door left ajar.

“Vanya?” he pushed against the door and heard scuffling, a hitched gasp, but it was too late, Five already seen it, the red upon the ceramic sink, dripping off the edge onto the white linoleum floor.

Klaus was too obvious, he didn’t hide it from them when he rolled pieces of paper and within was a drug that kept him smiling. Made him twirl around and dance to music, made him laugh to their father’s insults, and later helped him sleep when nightmares no longer plagued him. Lately, he’s run out, but he would’ve taken Klaus’s nightmares than Vanya’s tear stained face and her bloody wrist, soaked into her white and blue nightshirt.

“Five,” she gasped, picking up the thin metallic blade, but Five teleported and took the blade from her hand. She gripped the sink, her knees hitting the floor as she let out a stifled sob. “Give that back, Five!”

“No,” he said, scowling at the blood stained blade. “What are you doing, Vanya? If father finds out what you d—”

Vanya scoffed, glaring at him as she lowered herself down, slumping on her knees. “Like he’d care about my body, I’m useless to him, he said it every chance he got.”

Five gritted his teeth and closed the door. “You shouldn’t do this to yourself.”

Vanya looked down at her wrist that was still bleeding. He set the blade down on the sink and knelt down in front of her. She had cut through the first layer, and from the old scars she has, it seems she’s done this many times before.

“Please don’t do this to yourself,” Five said, softer as he met her wet brown eyes.

“Why do you care?” Vanya asked, there was no anger in her words, only exhaustion as she wiped away her tears, there was no visible scars on her right wrist, and she seemed almost defeated as her shoulders slumped and caved in on herself as more tears trailed down her face. “It hurts, Five, it hurts. My chest hurts, like there’s nothing that can fill it. I feel so alone.”

Starved. That’s what she is, emotionally and physically starved, that it’s starting to eat her insides. Coming through cuts of metallic silver and red, and warm tears making pathways along her puffy pink cheeks.

“I care about you,” he whispered, knowing she wouldn’t understand through the pain blinding her thoughts, that he was starved for her affection. His own feelings in this instance, did not matter, but her own.

Five situated into a sitting position against the wall, and brought Vanya beside him, he held her close to him as she cried while he bandaged her bleeding wrist. Hoping in someway he can mend her hurt by this simple act of patience and security.

Maybe their youth was foggy at best, and their future an undesirable one. But if he can stay in this bathroom, on this floor that smelled strong of citrus, and hold a starving girl with a bleeding wrist, than maybe he can heal them both with just his arms wrapped around her, sewing their hearts back together.

Five intertwined her shaky hand with his, and kissed her temple. He lingered on his affection, and held onto his beating heart that felt so much for this crying girl. Beautiful and sad at the same time, he only wanted to see her smile without all the pain weighing her down.

They couldn’t ignore the fact that they lived in this house, with these people, and that man. But maybe they could find solace with each other in anyway they can.

“Don’t leave me…” she whispered, leaning against him, closing her eyes, “not yet.”

“I won’t,” he promised.

He should’ve done more than to lie when pride and ambition sparked in his veins.

———

45 / 17 years later.

Five looked down at his arm where he cut open the skin to tear out the tracker. It burned and ached, and he tried his best to stop the bleeding when he could, but she returned with tired eyes, sadness sinking upon her pale face and thin shoulders. He pulled up the sleeve and watched her wince, before leaning forward to take off the gauze and placing another in its place. The antiseptic burned, but he held in the pain, while her own brows were knitted, knowing the pain and not sure what else to do besides keeping the new gauze in place with tape.

Five noticed her sleeve slightly riding up, no new scars, and old ones have faded away.

He should’ve done more, but the past was the past, and they were sitting in her dim lit living room. It was late, and she didn’t know the violence burning in his body, what he had seen during his time in isolation during the end of the world, and the desperation of wanting to return to his family, to her.

Except time was unfair when meddled with, and he was older in a younger body, and she had simply aged into a woman who hadn’t healed from the life she had lived with and without him. Both reflecting that same childhood trauma, that starvation now mirroring each other.

There was a lot he wanted to say, a lot he wanted to convey to the one person who now looked unable to fully smile. Broken by lonely days and empty words.

It was unfair. All of it, but he learned all that time alone, that life was unfair and there was no stopping it.

All Five could say in the silence of the room was explain to her what happened, and watch the shock ripple upon her face. And with full of purpose, serious in its nature, he told her the truth and hoped she’d understand.

“The world ends in eight days, and I don't know to stop it."

She stared at him blankly, the fragility too obvious in her exhaustion, easily shattered if pressured, and all those sharp ends become more dangerous than the full piece. Yet she said the one thing the others didn’t understand since he arrived, and he knew she’d understand in any form he’d take, “I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a past self-harmer, so I understand how it feels to be constantly alone with people around, and to feel like a failure, worthless, even when others say they're there for you. It never feels like that. It's always the same walls and locked doors, with nothing more but myself, my emptiness, and the blade. I guess there's a time when I wanted someone to hold me and all my pain and never leave me. That never happened, I'm twenty-four, and I still feel constantly alone. I just deal with it differently, mostly through writing. :)
> 
> I actually thought of adding a kiss between Vanya and Five in the future, but decided against it. I'm not sure how people will take it, and I'll wait it out until more people write fanfiction about the pairing, including the others. I like to see how this fandom expands and evolves. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.


End file.
